Confession time…I shook my fist at God, cursed Him, and asked him to kill me where I stood.

It was around 15 years ago in Kentucky, and it was a bad time in my life, needless to say. It wasn’t that I had lost almost everything except my wife and children; God was doing a work in my life, purging me of my pride.

The Unfaithful One

Kentucky offered a step up in what was proving to be an already successful career. On top of that, I thought by moving to Christian County (get that? Christian? A sign?), a place where at the time there were thirteen churches without pastors, surely God was opening a door for me to preach. Yep, things were looking great, and it was all about me.

Long story short, not only did my new position not pay the expected $90k+ a year, it was completely done away with! No longer could I afford the nice house in the historic district, or the nice car, or the private education for my girls; it took working four part-time jobs just to keep the power on! What was worse was watching my wife wait tables and clean houses (with a smile, no less) just to make ends meet.

One evening, on my way home, I stopped by a liquor store (they actually have drive-thru’s in KY) and bought a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. I had not eaten anything all day, so on an empty stomach this non-drinker decided to down a bottle of alcohol while walking around our neighborhood. After much contemplation, I’d already determined I was too fearful to kill myself, so I tried a different approach – tell God exactly what I thought of Him and His so-called “plan” for my life.

Literally, with my fist clenched and thrust toward the sky, I cursed God with every word I could think of. I condemned Him for letting me be humiliated; for bringing me to this point and abandoning me; for making me think everything would work for the best. I literally dared God – I begged God – to take my life. Like I had told a former prayer partner whom my wife had called on my behalf, just to try to talk some sense into me – he said, “Don’t you know you have a family who loves you? – I just didn’t care anymore.

Again, it was all about me.

The Faithful One

But even at that moment of total despair and resentment, that “still small Voice” was hard to drown out with my obscenities and vulgarities. “I love you,” He said, “and I know you don’t really mean what you’re saying…and even if you do, I still love you.”

I didn’t want to hear it! Like a little boy throwing a tantrum, I was bent on pushing the envelope, just to make God angry back at me, I suppose… just to hear the kind of response I wanted to hear – confirmation I was worthless – which in turn would prove I was right about God.

But my Father was patient (Psalm 86:15). When I was faithless, He was faithful (2 Timothy 2:13). And when I came back to my senses, when I begged to be forgiven for the blasphemous things I’d said, He didn’t condemn me (Romans 8:1). No, on the contrary, He sat me on His knee, put his arm around me, and gently whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“As far as the east is from the west, [so] far hath he removed our transgressions from us. Like as a father pitieth [his] children, [so] the LORD pitieth them that fear him. For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we [are] dust.” – Psalm 103:12-14

Friends, I am so thankful for the mercy and grace of God! All glory and honor are His! My God is Faithful and True!

3 responses to “He Didn’t Strike Me Dead”

Anthony, I appreciate your courage in telling your story. While the circumstances are different, I too have a time in my life when I said some things to God that I shouldn’t have said or even thought. The most awesome thing about that day, however, was that after I was spent emotionally and had said all the words I could say, I heard the soft sound of sandled feet and also felt the loving hug of God as he comforted me. There are many people in this world who need to hear these stories.